


Sometimes we fall

by Pinophyta



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Pining, one sided pining... OR IS IT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-25 15:43:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4966738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinophyta/pseuds/Pinophyta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Courier warms up his night, thinking about his feelings for Joshua Graham.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes we fall

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in November 2011, over at the Fallout Kinkmeme. Decided to post it here because my feelings for this pairing have come back stronger than ever, and I want to share them with the world.

He didn't know how the Sorrows managed to sleep in the Narrows. It was a cold, humid place, and the constant murmur of the waterfalls reached every single corner in there. If the place hadn't been also insanely beautiful, he would have been furious right now.

The Courier looked at the ceiling of his tent, unable to sleep. He was still fully dressed, and covered with a thin blanket the Sorrows had given him. They were very kind people, always looking after him, trying to make him feel at home. Still, there was nothing they could do about his distraught mind that night. Because things in Zion had reached a point of no return, and he had to make his mind about a lot of matters. But that night, the source of his unrest was one man.

One special, unreachable man that occupied his thoughts more and more every day. At first it hadn't been so noticeable, since they had been planning things together. His feelings were quieter then. Then they had moved into the Narrows, and the Courier had started going out on his own, seeing him less and less each day. That change seemed to make him think about him more and more. 

Every night they met at the campfire, where Graham always had warm tea waiting for him. He read the scriptures in silence, while the Courier had dinner, and then they debriefed each other on the progress of the day. They chatted for a bit before going to bed.

The Courier slept in a corner, near the entrance of the canyon. The Sorrows had offered him a place in one of the caves, so he could have more privacy, but for the Courier being off the way was good enough. He didn't want to abuse their kindness. At that moment he wished his tent had been closer to a campfire, though.

Still, the thoughts about Joshua Graham were keeping him distracted from the cool night. He had exchanged a mere few words with him that day, a few in the morning and a couple that same night, less than an hour ago, after his tea. He had spoken in whispers, so as not to disturb the Sorrows sleeping nearby. He had wished the Courier goodnight, with a husky voice full of warm kindness.

He felt warmth begin to spread through his stomach, and the sweet thoughts about the man fueled them further, until he didn't feel cold anymore. Just the thought of Joshua, waiting by the campfire. Him, looking over his book with that stern look he had, but kindly inviting him to sit down with a wave of his hand. He never sat too close, though. No matter how much he wanted to put an arm around his shoulders, and pull him against his body.

The Courier knew Joshua Graham was a special man, however. A man with a mission, a man committed to those goals only, and that kind of man would probably not appreciate advances of any kind. At best, considering his good character, he would laugh them off. At worst, he would lecture him in disgust. Describing his sin, looking at him in disappointment.

No, the Courier thought. Joshua would never look at him like that, because he would never let him know.

He unzipped his pants. Suddenly, the sound of crickets and waterfalls was soothing instead of annoying. He closed his eyes and just enjoyed the feeling, felt himself get hard, thinking about the burned man. He slid a hand under his shirt, imagining it was his, imagining it was Joshua Graham trailing down and grabbing his cock. He wondered... he never stopped wondering... how he would make love to that man.

He imagined taking his clothes off, carefully. Button after button of his white shirt, slowly sliding down his jeans, even taking off his boots with care. But in his thoughts, he never went further than that. He imagined his body, his heat, but never thought of taking off his bandages for fear of hurting him. He would kiss him, however. Madly. Tenderly. He knew the man would never remove his bandages in front of anyone, but...

He just wanted him. He just wanted to lay next to him, and wished the hand around his cock was his, bandages and all. He cared about nothing else in the world at that moment, that night.

He undid a couple of buttons of his shirt, enough to be able to slip a hand inside. He just laid his hand there, feeling his chest rise and fall faster every minute, while his other hand worked his cock with a constant, firm grip.

And he imagined a warm, bandaged body against his, and piercing blue eyes fixed in his. Atop the crickets and sound of flowing water, he imagined his breathing, his panting. His words, wise lessons on morality or instructions to raid an enemy camp, he didn't care. He just wanted to have that voice next to his ear, and gradually make it shaky, agitated. Breathless. Like the courier's own was right then. He was quiet, though. And he didn't dare moan Joshua's name aloud. His parted lips only formed the words. His heavy breathing and the quick movements of his wrist remained the only sources of sound, and were conveniently muffled by the natural symphony of the night.

But he heard that voice, being carried by the breeze. Joshua Graham's voice. And it wasn't his pleasure-flooded mind imagining things: he actually stopped his ministrations right on track, alert settling on his body in a matter of seconds, to pay attention to the real voice of the real man.

He was talking to someone else, one of the Sorrows probably, in their own tribal dialect. They were speaking in whispers and moving about quietly, as if they didn't want to wake anybody up. He heard them walk towards the camp, and stand there. He could make out the words now, though he did not understand them, but Joshua sounded like he was commanding the Sorrows to do something. He heard the tribesman walk away. And then Joshua Graham, walking towards his tent.

The Courier swallowed, and calmly rolled on his side. With one leg crossed forward, he hid his erection. He closed his eyes, and prayed to look convincingly asleep.

Through half closed eyes, he saw the outline of the Burned Man's boots, right in front of his face. He then kneed in front of him, and gently, shook his shoulder.

“Are you awake?” he whispered.

The Courier opened his eyes and met Joshua's in the dark, right in front of his own, painfully close. They were the only thing he could see. And the hand, still on his shoulder, the only thing he could feel.

“...something wrong?”, the Courier asked.

The Burned Man spoke in a hushed voice.

“There have been some developments that have affected our plans for tomorrow.”

Oh, heavens. He murmured and whispered so close to his ear. If it weren't for the bandages he wore, the Courier knew he would be able to feel his breath on his face.

“What happened?”, the Courier said. It was the right thing to say, but his mind was somewhere else completely and had no interest on it. And he was still painfully erect, but couldn't do anything about it.

His vision was blurry. He was still sweating, and thanked god for the darkness and for the fact that Graham hadn't brought a torch with him. He knew his flustered face would be a dead giveaway. He tried to focus, really pay attention to what Joshua was saying. But he couldn't. His body burned. His eyes drifted, from the blue eyes of the wise man to the... Well, where his lips were, under those bandages. He felt the fabric move, softly, with each word, each movement. He imagined pulling the bandages down just a little bit, enough to expose the bare minimum for a kiss. He didn't care about scars or disfigurement. He just wanted to place his mouth over the source of that beautiful deep noise that was driving him mad, silence those words but gain a warm tongue inside him in the process. If he hadn't been paralyzed by embarrassment, he would have yanked Joshua Graham down on a moment's notice and steal his breath.

The Courier managed to piece something together, based on the last words of the Burned Man's phrase.

“...and then move south to avoid an unnecessary fight. That should take care of our schedule problems.”

The Courier nodded, and responded. His hazy words could easily be interpreted as a natural, half-asleep confusion.

“We'll meet in the afternoon instead, then?”

“Exactly”, Joshua said, completely oblivious to the Courier's confounded state. “Will you be able to hold on your own during the entire morning? I don't want to put you through more than you can handle.”

The Courier smiled, moved by the man's care. He usually was sent on errands by people that cared nothing about his odds of survival. It was nice having someone care whether you came back or not for a change.

“I'll be fine. Waking Cloud will help me.”

“Excellent. I'm sorry I had to wake you up” he added, on a softer tone. “This just couldn't wait.”

“It's okay. I have a light sleep anyway.”

Graham's blue eyes fixed in his, mysterious and shiny in the dark, and looked as if he could see right through the Courier. It was his way of expressing a smile, or it looked like that to the Courier, because in that close, warm context, his stern face transformed into a tender, sympathetic one.

And the gesture that followed simply blew the Courier's mind away. Joshua Graham softly moved his hand, from the Courier's shoulder, to his face. Scarred fingers trailed the other man's jaw, and a thumb rubbed his slightly stubbed chin tenderly.

He couldn't breath. That simply caress had sent his mind to a whole new place, spinning madly from pleasure. His mouth opened, slightly, and soon the fingers reached his chin, and a thumb brushed over them.

And just like that, it was over. He took his hand away, with all its warmth, and the implied love. The Courier's breathing resumed, though his lips still felt disappointed that a tender kiss hadn't followed that touch.

Maybe it was too soon. Maybe it was just a signal, indicating that somehow, Graham had noticed his interest, and wanted to return it. Maybe he was struggling with his own doubts, or just wanted to focus on his mission first. It could also be an innocent gesture that the Courier was misinterpreting horribly, but he doubted that. Because the touch was too soft. Too intimate. And the distance between their faces too short to not mean anything.

“Sleep well, courier.” he said, standing up. He shot him a side glance as he left the tent.

He heard him walk again, and so it was him and the silent night alone again. The waterfalls, the crickets. And this time, his heartbeat too, more deafening than ever. And unlike before, this wasn't motivated by lust, by his lonely stimulation. His heartbeats were the product of euphoria, an unmistakable high of optimism and love, and he felt like he could jump off a cliff and fly over the entire canyon if he wanted.

And the high lasted even after his climax, after his heartbeat and his breathing settled down, and the first signs of sleep appeared. His mouth curved on a smile, and his mind drifted away, as thoughts about the Burned Man danced on his mind and dissolved into the night.


End file.
